Falling into Rarohenga

by Steph Matuku

  ‘So dramatic,’ Tui says, but I don’t snipe back. A rumbling like a truck going past grows louder and louder. The furniture – the bed and the bookcases and the dresser – start sliding around with the ornaments, and now the floor – the floor itself – is moving and swirling like water down the plughole, and I can feel myself being dragged toward this massive hole that’s suddenly appeared in the middle of my mum’s bedroom.

  ‘Kae!’ Tui screams.

  She’s slipping toward the hole and trying to cling onto the door frame, but the drag is way too powerful. I can feel it tugging on me too, like a magnet pulling on iron. I manage to grab her wrist with one hand, trying to yank her back. Both feet go out from under her, and now she’s hanging off me, legs flying, long hair whipping about in a wind that’s sprung up from nowhere.

  She screams again, but I can’t grab her properly. I can’t let go of the door frame or we’ll both go in. The pull is too great; I can’t hold on. Her hand slips out of mine. She slithers away from me and gets sucked into that hole.

  Well, I don’t think about it. I just jump in after her.

  TUIKAE

  I’m spinning around and around, down and down, and then suddenly I’m in water and I can’t breathe. The water is all around me, light blue and warm, like a tropical ocean, and as I frantically try to work out which way is up, I see an indistinct shape floating in the haze. It’s Kae. I strike out toward him, but this thing – this monster – suddenly appears in front of me and snarls. Bubbles stream past yellow fangs, and its pāua-coloured eyes are looking at me, looking through me.

  I try to scream and the soft blue water fades to black.

  That’s when I’m pretty sure I’m dead.

  TUI

  KAE

  I have this weird dream that I’m floating in the ocean, and it’s all peaceful and beautiful and calm. It’s exactly how I always imagined I’d feel if I was a baby waiting to be born. Just warm and cosy and surrounded by love. I can hear Tui from a long way away saying, ‘Wake up, Kae! Wake up!’ and she’s shaking me; shaking me right out of my beautiful, happy dream and back to the real world.

  Except.

  Except.

  The real world isn’t like this.

  I’m lying on a beach with grains of white sand so fine they feel like icing sugar. And because my face is smooshed in it, I can see that each grain is actually a perfect little prism of gold and silver and yellow and purple and all the colours, really, but when I blink and look again, it’s just white sand.

  I slowly sit up. My head hurts. I wince, rub my eyes.

  The view is still the same. A beach with a blue lake that stretches out to a misty horizon. A line of green trees bordering the beach, leading to thick bush. Beyond that, the outline of snowy-topped mountains.

  The sun shines above, but it’s a sun with a tā moko, the tattooed swirls carved in fiery red against its white cheek. Around the sun, holding it tight, is a braided net of shining golden cords. The ends stretch wide across the sky and vanish into the blue.

  Tui lets go my arm and scrambles to her feet, gazing down the other end of the beach. I can’t take my eyes off that sun. I can gaze right up at its bright hot face without blinking. The sun seems tired and weary, and it reminds me of something but I can’t think what. I stare at that sun, vaguely thinking that I must have woken up and then gone back to sleep again, when I hear a voice.

  It’s so familiar: that wailing cry of a karanga, the call that women do when they welcome you onto the marae. It’s a sacred ritual that brings the spirits of the living and the dead together and makes it safe for everyone to gather. I can’t think why I’m dreaming about a karanga, but somehow it feels right. It feels like home.

  But this isn’t home. I don’t know where this is.

  TUI

  KAE

  When I first open my eyes, I can’t quite grasp what I’m seeing. My mind goes into overdrive and everything blurs. My breath comes hard and fast and I wonder if I’m going to faint. Kae is lying a little way away on the sand, and I crawl over to him as fast as I can because even though he’s annoying as hell, in this weird wonderland Kae is safe. Kae is an anchor. Kae is home.

  He’s also completely out of it.

  I shake him and call his name, hoping like anything he isn’t dead, and eventually he mumbles something and opens his eyes.

  So that’s alright.

  I look around again, at the beach, the lake, the bush and the mountains. I’m sure I was just in the water, and yet my clothes are quite dry. I study the lake and remember the creature that was in it, and a shudder crawls down my back. Where the hell are we?

  I catch sight of a group of people way down the other end of the beach, and a cry floats across the sands. I squint to see who they are, but before I can focus, they’re suddenly standing very close to us.

  I still can’t see them properly. They swim in and out of my vision like a mirage. I get the impression that I’ve seen some of them before, and there’s a lady who looks a bit like Mum only older. Behind the adults are a couple of kids: twins, by the looks. They’re standing as solemnly as everyone else, but when I glance at them, the boy punches the girl on the arm and she kicks him back, and I’m pretty sure they both grin at me before they fade out.

  The karanga dies, and I still can’t quite see who did it. I wonder if I’m supposed to answer it – be polite – but then another figure emerges from the group of blurry people, one I definitely know. It’s my Auntie Huia. I’d sat beside her at her tangi, thrown dirt on the coffin lid and cried an ocean of tears for her. Here she is. And now I know where we are.

  The group fades into mist, leaving my auntie standing in front of me, a cheeky grin on her face.

  ‘Well, it’s about bloody time you fullas got here,’ she says.

  I fall into her arms and we hug, and I cry and cry. It’s funny how there are always more tears. Tears are never-ending. It’s smiling that’s hard work.

  Finally she pushes me away a little and peers down at Kae, who’s blinking up at the sun like a dazed owl. She toes him in the ribs. ‘Up you get, māngere.’

  He gapes at her and scrambles back like a crab skittering for the safety of a rock. ‘No. Can’t be.’

  ‘It’s me, Kae.’ Auntie’s voice is as comforting as it always was, but I can detect a note of impatience underneath, and it’s clear that Auntie isn’t in the mood to muck around.

  ‘No, I’m dreaming … hallucinating …’

  ‘You’re in Rarohenga, Kae.’

  ‘But … there’s no coconut trees,’ Kae says, bewildered, and Auntie and I both groan and roll our eyes.

  ‘Rarohenga, you egg,’ I say. ‘Not Rarotonga! We’re in the Underworld. Where the spirits go.’ Even on that sunny beach I suddenly feel cold, and I shiver.

  Auntie holds out a hand to Kae to help him up, and he prods at her hand with a tentative finger as if testing that she’s real. She quickly slaps him in the face, and I crack up. Kae is dumbstruck, and then he laughs too: laughter that turns into tears. He hugs Auntie close, weeping. I’m surprised to see how much taller he is than her now.

  ‘I missed you,’ he whispers. ‘I missed you so much.’

  He steps back and wipes his eyes with his shirtsleeves, and then he grins. It’s familiar, teasing, the look that he always used to have when he talked to her. It’s nice to see it again.

  ‘You look good,’ he says, ‘considering you’ve been dead for three years.’

  ‘Oh, I take care of myself. The Zumba, you know.’ Auntie busts out a couple of dance moves, and I can’t help smiling. She hasn’t changed at all.

  ‘No more cancer, huh?’ he says.

  ‘Nope. Turns out the most reliable cure for cancer … is death.’

  ‘They should bottle it. They’d make a fortune.’

  Auntie and Kae keep ragging on each other, trying to make each other laugh, but I can’t join in. I’ve got that shivery feeling coming over me again. I look around at where we are – the b
each, the lake, the bush and the mountains – and say in a small voice, ‘Are we dead too?’

  Auntie stops teasing Kae, and her expression is serious. ‘No, you’re here because of your mother.’

  My stomach comes up into my throat, and I swallow hard. Kae goes ashen, and he clutches at Auntie. ‘Did she die? Was there an accident?’

  ‘No, no,’ Auntie says. ‘Nothing like that. She’s been kidnapped. By your father.’

  Well. I didn’t expect that.

  TUI

  KAE

  I shake my head, frowning. ‘Dad wouldn’t do that. How could he do that, anyway? How could he bring her here?’ A thought strikes me. ‘Is he magic?’

  ‘He can’t be,’ puts in Tui. ‘He’s an accountant.’

  ‘Accountants have hobbies too.’ Auntie’s teasing expression turns serious. ‘Your father acquired a few dodgy mates when he was inside. One of them had an interest in the spirit world.’

  She didn’t explain what she meant but it didn’t matter. The whole thing was too much to take in anyway.

  ‘I thought you learned how to pick locks and things in prison,’ Tui said. ‘Not this.’

  ‘Tema’s been planning this for a while, I’d imagine,’ Auntie went on. ‘He’s always wanted Maia back; you know that.’

  I knew, alright. When Mum finally chucked him out, he’d wait for her outside the house and visit her work and stuff. She had to get a trespass order against him. Then he went to jail for fraud, so he didn’t come around anymore, and when he got out, he disappeared. I was mad at Mum for a long time after she made him leave. I still am.

  ‘He couldn’t have her in the World of Light,’ Auntie says. ‘So he brought her here instead.’

  ‘And he brought us too,’ I breathe. Of course Dad would want us to be with him. He must have missed us heaps. I haven’t seen him since I was a kid, but I remember him. Tall and good-looking, with tattoos up and down one arm. When he smiled at you, he made you feel like the most special person in the world.

  Truth be told, he never used to smile much, though. Not at us.

  ‘He didn’t bring you,’ Auntie snorts. ‘I did. I shouldn’t have, but the doorway was already open, and how else was I supposed to get Maia out of here? She doesn’t belong here, and neither do you. You need to go and find her.’

  ‘But where are they?’ Tui asks.

  ‘I don’t know. Your father came in through the back way: dodged the pōwhiri, ignored all the protocol. Typical of him, really. You know when you don’t see someone for years and then when you do they’re exactly the same? Well, that’s your dad. Still the same big pain in the arse.’

  Tui kind of smirks, but I don’t.

  Tui and Dad never really got on. She hated him while he was with us, and then she hated him for leaving, because Mum turned into a big mess after that. Depressed, the doctor said. Mum cried all the time, and Tui ended up doing most of the cooking and cleaning. I stayed away from home as much as I could. One female crying in her room and the other one burning the baked beans and home was Not A Great Place To Be. Mum finally came out of it in the end, but Tui never forgot. Maybe she thought Mum was weak for not being able to cope. Only because Tui can cope with everything, you know? At least, she thinks she can, but that’s not quite the same thing.

  ‘If you don’t know where she is, how can we go and find her?’ Tui says, doubtfully eyeing the distant mountains. Not exactly the outdoorsy type, our Tui.

  ‘I don’t know for certain where she is,’ says Auntie, ‘but there are some who do.’

  She beckons to us to follow, and walks up the sand toward the line of trees that marks the edge of the bush.

  TUI

  KAE

  Can I just say right here and now that nature is not my favourite? The great outdoors is all well and good, but only if I’m passing through it in a car on my way to the city. When Auntie heads up toward the bush, I can feel my heart sinking right down into my socks.

  Because, of course, we’re not wearing shoes. There wasn’t any time. I’m wearing my socks, a pair of jeans, a tee-shirt and a hoodie, and Kae is still wearing his grey uniform shorts, a long-sleeved shirt and long grey socks. I have no idea how he managed to hold onto his uke, but he’s brushed the sand off it and slung its strap round his back as usual, and I can tell he feels better knowing it’s there.

  Auntie walks with us up to the edge of the bush and we stand at the line of trees, peeking in. It’s all leafy and lush, like a greenhouse, with vines and flowers everywhere. Dappled sunlight filters through the trees, and birds are singing quietly. They sound unfamiliar, too: not a single tūī call echoing through the trees, and you know how you can hear tūī singing from yonks away.

  ‘Is Mum in there?’ I whisper. I don’t know what it is about that quiet green place, but it makes me want to be quiet too.

  ‘Probably not.’ Auntie’s old-lady voice is too loud. ‘But the ones who can help you will be. They’re the tūrehu: the forest fairies.’

  Kae smirks and nudges me. ‘Fairies. Can you believe it?’

  Of course I can. I know what tūrehu are, because I read, unlike some people. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘They’ll find you,’ Auntie says. ‘Just keep walking.’

  ‘Easy directions,’ Kae says. ‘Don’t even need a GPS.’

  Auntie reaches for our hands and holds on tight. ‘Rarohenga will do what it can to make you stay. You might forget things, lose the memory of your life in the World of Light. You may feel overpowering thirst or hunger. That’s just Rarohenga wanting to keep you here. You can’t eat or drink anything, or you’ll be trapped in the Underworld forever.’

  Kae presses his hand against his stomach with a worried expression. He’s always hungry. This is going to be torture for him. I’m glad I had my apple earlier.

  ‘Remember, you don’t belong here, and neither does your mother.’

  ‘Or Dad,’ puts in Kae.

  Auntie grimaces. ‘Your dad’s rowing his own waka. Don’t worry about him. You just find Maia.’ She glances at me with a raised eyebrow. ‘What’s that face for, miss?’

  I’m startled. I hadn’t realised she could read my thoughts so easily. But then, Auntie always had a knack for knowing what was going on under the surface. Mum never does.

  ‘I’m just sick of watching out for her. It’s always on me to make sure Mum’s alright. It sucks.’

  I know how it sounds. Selfish. But I can’t help it.

  ‘Too bad, kid,’ Auntie says cheerily. ‘You’re whānau. That’s life. And death.’

  ‘So we’re actually gonna do this?’ Kae says, peering through the trees. ‘We’re just gonna wander off into Neverland and find a bunch of fairies?’

  I roll my eyes. If there’s anything Kae is good at, it’s getting out of doing any kind of work.

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ I say sarkily. ‘I’ll go by myself. You’ll just hold me back, anyway. As always.’

  ‘Forget it. I’m coming. Can’t have you hogging all the glory. As always.’

  ‘When you get back,’ Auntie interrupts, ‘I’ll send you all home. But the doorway won’t stay open forever. You’ll need to hurry.’

  ‘Hold on a minute!’ Kae is alarmed. ‘You’re not coming with us?’

  ‘She’s an old lady!’ I snap. ‘And she’s dead. She can’t go traipsing off through the bush hunting fairies!’ I’m harsher than I mean to be; I’m totally freaked that Auntie isn’t coming with us.

  ‘Alright, alright,’ Kae mutters. ‘Just asking. Jeez.’

  ‘There are places in Rarohenga that I can’t go,’ says Auntie. ‘But you can.’

  Auntie hugs Kae and whispers something in his ear, and he whispers back and gives her a kiss on her cheek.

  Then it’s my turn. I hug her – really hug her – firm and steady, and breathe in her familiar smell of musky perfume and doughnuts. I don’t know why Auntie always smells like doughnuts, but she does.

  Auntie says in a low voice to me, ‘Look afte
r Kae. He’s hurting.’

  ‘If he got hurt fighting, it’s his own fault,’ I say.

  I wonder what she whispered to Kae – whether it was about me. But there’s no time to ask. Kae is already pushing aside the ferns, and I follow him into the bush, turning back just once to wave goodbye.

  TUIKAE

  A few hours ago I was getting my head punched in by Ari Andrews, and now I’m clambering through a jungle in the Underworld. So weird. It’s a pretty nice jungle actually – all bright green leaves and soft moss and flowers – and every now and then a massive butterfly flaps past. The birds sound cool too. They chime and chirp way up high in the upper canopy, so high I only occasionally catch glimpses of red or blue feathers.

  Our socks are getting pretty dirty, so Tui puts hers in her pocket, and I tie mine around my neck like a scarf. They smell kinda fruity, but I don’t want to lose them. I suddenly have this thought that if you leave things from our world in the spirit realm, bad things might happen to the people who live here. Like, if you go back in time, you’re not supposed to leave a watch or your phone behind because it can alter the course of the future, you know? Kind of like that. Although I have no idea what will happen if I leave my socks behind for spirits to find. Maybe they’ll start haunting the shop where the socks came from or something. I don’t know. I’m not an expert.

  Anyway, the ground is nice and soft, so it doesn’t bother me much, but Tui is squelching along with this look of disgust on her face, which makes me crack up. It’s mud. People put mud on their faces for face packs and things. I mention this to her, but she just scowls and says, ‘That’s a different kind of mud, dick.’

  Mud is mud, if you ask me.

  We’re climbing over logs and ducking under ferns, and after a while she starts panting, and then she starts whining, and finally she flops down onto the ground and refuses to move until she’s had a rest. She is so unfit. She doesn’t do sport or anything, just hangs around in the library studying and reading long books.